


Reconnaissance

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Abduction, Community: watsons_woes, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To find is one thing.  To retrieve is another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconnaissance

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to JWP #31 (Just A Little Bit More) on Watson's Woes. A continuation of On The Scent.
> 
> Just A Little Bit More: Write an add-on scene to one of your own stories. This can be an addition to a previous entry you wrote for JWP. Please link the story to which you're adding on!

I don't like the look or the smell of this place one bit.

The room is full of smells, and none of them pleasant. But the stink of rotting timber, mildew, spoiled meat and cheap wine, however, is like a bouquet of flowers compared to the sickening mix of blood and pain and anger.

The doctor is moaning in his sleep, bound to a chair by the far wall. There is that metallic scent of copper again, coming from the ropes that entwine his wrists and ankles; they are smeared with his blood. Waves of anger and frustration are coming from our villain, a spindly stick of a human. He's pacing back and forth from the doctor to the dusty window. Every time he's near the doctor he nervously grips the knife he's holding, and every time he peers outside the window the stench of rage gets stronger. The chloroform smell is almost overpowering; the weakling coward must have needed much of it to subdue the heavier and stronger doctor.

He's muttering to himself, cursing a blue streak about the other half of the money he was promised for this "favor." He takes a swig of the wine, the overripe grape smell turning my stomach further.

I look to my partner as we conceal ourselves right outside the room. His eyes scan the scene before us, and I know he must be weighing our options like I am. While I've seen my comrade hold his own in a scrape, I'm no fighting dog. Besides, although we outnumber the enemy two to one, all this craven bastard would need to do to stop us is step behind his hostage and put that knife to the doctor's throat. We also dare not leave the house to summon reinforcements; we were lucky enough he didn't hear us coming in. _And_ if his employer returns while we're gone, they might move the doctor to another location, or worse...

No, this has to end _tonight_. But how?

An idea strikes me. It's not the best idea I've ever had, I'm sure, but I can't think of any other way. _Both_ of us rushing the man is too risky, but if _I_ do it, that might be enough of a diversion...

I wish I could tell my colleague my scheme; the language barrier between us can be so damned frustrating! He's a smart human though; I'll just have to trust that he's smart enough to follow my lead.

Here goes nothing!


End file.
